As I look I find
something I had once before during a time
The whimsicality of them all
A kind of youth I never seemed to re-find
Something once gained
Now gone as if it never was mine
As the thought replays in my mind
I think about if I'm all fine
Being the only one who can't seem to go back in time
To the time where everything was benign
To act as if I were any age younger than nine
But I can't ever seem to find that time in my mind
When all was smeared out by the times my brother had gone wild
That makes me the minority
The one who sticks out like a sore thumb
Have I grown up?
Is this how it feels
The grow to coarse and callus
Or maybe not even having it in the first place?
The stoic
Not breaking for whimsical youth
Or maybe just not knowing how
The only time I remember this whimsicality recently
was when I felt the most vulnerable and naked
Why can't I go back?
Is it even worth it?
It keeps me unique
Thos introverted part of me that only comes out when I crash
The mix of thought
Not giving me any relief
Holding on to the Now, Not yet